However Soft Your Symphony
by Cherpov
Summary: Modern!Trek, Black Friday AU. Kirk drags Scotty out for Black Friday shopping because apparently Scotty's wardrobe isn't quite up to par. But Scotty gets a bit of sensory overload, and Chekov is the one who gets to pick up the pieces. Chekov/Scotty.


Scotty sighed as he shut the door to his small little hovel, dropping his bags and leaning up against it. Jim had decided to coerce him into a bonding experience: Black Friday shopping. After having avoided the last friendly get together he had thrown in an attempt to get to know Nyota and Spock better, Scotty figured he owed it to the man to go for a night out. What he hadn't expected was to be dragged around on a six hour shopping trip, playing the part of the Jim's mannequin all afternoon.

Apparently his outfits were a wee bit hard on the eyes, with their mismatched colors and clashing patterns. And apparently that meant sacrificing the comfort of his clothes for clothes a bit more – appeasing. Nevermind that most of the clothes Jim bought were too light on his body, tight in places that weren't conducive to movement, made of materials that made his skin feel constricted. The pants were too thin, as if he weren't wearing much of anything below his waist, making him feel awkwardly naked. The shirts clung around his elbows and shoulders, making it hard to bend and stretch, impossible to gesture the way he preferred to get his point across in conversations. And the cotton – it was stiff and pokey, as if he were wearing bent cardboard, folding harsh and rough against his skin.

But it made Jim happy. And hopefully the shopping trip would give him wiggle room to avoid going out with him alone for quite some time.

Scotty kicked the bags off to the side, wanting to avoid them for as long as possible. Pasha had gone on an afternoon trip with the adorably young Demora, letting Hikaru and Ben have a bit of alone time together to catch the post-Black-Friday sales. Scotty hoped he would have enough time to calm down – maybe taking a nap and sleeping off all the jittery uncomfortableness he was feeling before Pasha came back home.

He took several deep breaths as he walked toward the bedroom, hoping to alleviate the anxiety wracking his body. He collapsed onto the bed, groaning in frustration. After a few moments of simply laying there, he began to shuffle around the bed – rolling over, trying to figure out which side was more comfortable. When that didn't work, he began to fidget – moving his arm beneath the pillow, out from under the pillow, laying on his back, laying on his stomach, throwing a leg out to the side.

But his skin was crawling and his body felt too dense and the light from the window was too bright and the blank white walls felt too shrinking and nothing felt _good_.

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach and screaming into a pillow. Oh, it was going to be a long evening.

* * *

He had no idea how much time had passed wallowing in misery, but soon enough the front door was opening and the familiar cheer of Pasha calling out to him.

"Mitya, are you home?" The bedroom door opened, and Scotty sat up. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Pavel gave a hum of empathy, leaning up against the doorframe.

"Was Kirk difficult today?"

"Aye, always wantin a miracle, that one," Scotty mumbled. Pavel stepped toward him quietly, kneeling in front of him. He did not reach out – a small blessing – trying to determine whether or not his touch would be useful, given Scotty's headspace.

"Do you know what you need?" he asked quietly, glancing down as Scotty picked at his nails.

"I can't even properly think straight right now, laddie. 'fraid I won't be much use tonight." And god, if that didn't make Scotty feel worse – putting himself in a situation that he knew would ruin his temperament, not thinking through the consequences that it would also ruin his night with Pasha.

But Pavel simply smiled, gently reaching out and taking one of Scotty's hands, pressing a small kiss to it.

"That is not something you should worry about." Pavel paused, mind whirring through their options. "Do you think you can manage by yourself for – mmm, 7 more minutes?"

"Well, I can't do much else right now, can I?" Scotty replied in defeat.

"I will do my best to help you, Mitya." With that, Pasha bounded out of the room in a flash, leaving Scotty to wait, sitting impatiently on the bed.

Scotty kept his head down, counting down the time in an attempt to relax. It took Pasha exactly 7 minutes and 13 seconds to reappear at the doorway.

"Come, you need to wash up to get rid of all the icky feelings," he commanded, motioning for Scotty to follow. And he did automatically, an intrinsic type of trust, considering his mind wasn't quite willing to go through the motions of cleaning up.

"Pasha - I'm not sure I can handle a shower, luv." The thought of little drops of water pounding like needled pinpricks against his skin made him shudder. It was a small thing, to feel the piercing droplets beat sharply against his body; usually he had the stamina to ignore it in favor of far more pleasurable sensations that came along with Pasha joining him in the rare moments they had actual water showers. This evening, however, was far from one of those moments.

Pavel clicked his tongue and shook his head in worry.

"See, that is how I know you are really not feeling well - you forget that I know these things about you, Mitya." With that he pushed open the bathroom door, and Scotty practically wilted at the sight.

It was a simple bathroom, to be sure - but they had purposely looked into renting a flat with a deep bathtub, perfect for nights like this. And even more perfect was the bath itself - the gentle scent of vanilla drifting through the room, steam coiling upward. The labs he worked in tended to run at far higher temperatures than anywhere else, the high powered machines in such crammed up rooms creating enough heat that most days felt like working in a desert despite the number of cooling systems that kept everything running properly. The warmth was welcoming; unlike several students that would come through the labs who were unused to such habitats and would balk at the sweltering air, Scotty found an incredibly comfort, melting in the hot pressure.

"I have no idea what I could've ever done to deserve ya," Scotty mumbled, shoulders slumping at the impending relief. Pavel grinned mischievously.

"There is plenty more that I planned, but for now, you must rest. Go," he encouraged, nodding at the bath. Scotty wasted no time doing as told, quickly stripping and sinking in to the boiling water with a sigh.

"Make sure you do not drown," Pavel teased gently, flipping the lights off. "I will be back ewentually. Be good!"

* * *

Scotty drifted beneath the surface of the water, the calm enjoyment of feeling engulfed in warmth, floating and suspended in nothingness. A quiet tapping slowly brought him to his senses, and he gradually drifted upward.

There were several candles lit in the bathroom, casting the room in a gentle and soft glow.

"Good to see you are still here," Pavel said, propping his elbow on the edge of the tub. He rested his chin on his hand, gazing at Scotty fondly. A cheeky smile blossomed across his face. "Now, I put the towels in the dryer and made them wery fluffy. And some blankets. The nice ones you like so much. I was thinking..."

Scotty raised an eyebrow as the young man trailed off.

"Aye, laddie, you were thinking? Your ideas have been rather good so far." Pavel smirked at the compliment, sighing dramatically.

"Ah, well, there are two ways we could go from here," he suggested. His face suddenly turned serious, gaze wandering aimlessly to the water. "I would like to know what happened. If you wish to talk about it. And then I was thinking of dinner and a movie?"

"Mm, I suppose that would depend on dinner," Scotty replied, sitting up. "Come here."

Pavel raised an eyebrow, leaning forward curiously. Scotty pressed upward, planting a kiss firmly on the corner of his lips.

"I am glad you are feeling so much better," Pavel laughed, giving Scotty his own fleeting kiss before standing up. "Now come - we must talk of what went wrong and make fun of terrible science fiction films."

* * *

Scotty lay wrapped in the confines of a thick mink blanket, tight and toasty within the fuzzy material. It was like being buried within a cloud: soft, silky, a beautiful sensation against his skin. If he'd had the vocal ability, he would purr in contentment. This was, by far, his own personal heaven: dressed in loose pajamas worn smooth with age, gliding against his body every time he shifted, with the heavy pressure of being firmly enclosed within the luxurious blanket Pasha's father had passed down to them, settled up in the lap of the young man, the vid screen dimly playing some ridiculous show almost a century old.

Pavel himself was draped comfortably over the couch, one hand resting on Scotty's shoulder.

"You should tell him, so that he stops harassing you," Chekov prompted, hand twitching in worry. "He is a kind man. I am sure he would understand."

"Ach, no. 's not worth it." At that, Pavel shifted, tilting Scotty's face toward him.

"It is not worth seeing you suffer, either."

Scotty closed his eyes, debating with himself in the almost silence that followed, letting the dull hum of movie dialogue wash over him.

"I suppose you're right," he finally admitted with a frown. Pavel hummed, leaving the conversation at that.

* * *

Scotty wasn't sure how much time passed; he flowed in and out of sleep, it seemed, waking every now and again to some new episode of whatever held Pavel's attention. Eventually he did come more fully to his senses, stretching hard and wriggling up from beneath the blankets.

"Time 's it?" he asked, listening as his back cracked loudly. Pavel blinked up at him, as if he too were waking from his own stupor.

"Bed time?"

They had managed to trudge back to the bedroom, curling up under the covers. Scotty tugged Pasha from the other side of the bed, maneuvering him closer.

"If you do that, I will end up clinging to you all night," Pavel muttered, nosing against his collarbone. Scotty chuckled.

"Considering I've been lying like a lump all evening, tis only fair."

"You do not have to."

"Aye, but I want to. Now get over here." Pasha's arms slung around his chest, one of his legs sliding between Scotty's. The young man shuffled closer, sliding up to press against his side, gripping him lightly.

"Thank you for today." Pavel hummed in reply.

"Is no big deal," he slurred, already half asleep. "You have done the same for me before."

"I think you put up with far more from me than you should though," Scotty mumbled. Pavel halfheartedly hit his chest.

"I do not 'put up' with you, Mitya," he said firmly. "I do these things because I care."

Scotty huffed. Despite knowing this, a part of him still held a niggling feeling of disbelief. But he trusted Pasha with all his heart, even if a part of his mind did not always agree.

"I care quite a lot about you too, laddie. I hope you know that."

"I do," Pavel said, giving him a gentle squeeze of assurance. "And I am glad. But I am also glad for sleep."

"Aye, that's pretty important too."

"Exactly." There was a minor shuffling as they settled against each other. "Now, we must sleep. I have many plans for tomorrow. We will need all of our energy. So rest."

A few minutes later, he was out like a light, snuffling quietly as his breathing evened out. Scotty grinned into the darkness, closing his eyes.

He knew there would be plenty more days like today, where things were too overwhelming to handle. But hopefully tomorrow would be a better day. And if not, well – even the bad days weren't so bad, as long as Pasha was beside him.

* * *

 _Two things:_

 _1\. Descriptions are from my own experiences with anxiety; I've read it could also be related to Autism, PTSD, ADHD, etc. I was thinking about it in relation to a discussion over Scotty's awful shirt choices, because even though I agree his shirts are absolutely ridiculous, they look like those super glossy and extremely flimsy things you can buy at thrift stores pretty cheap. Add that to the idea that Scotty is pretty intense over every single thing the Enterprise does, and my mind went boom: tactile sensory difficulties, hypersensitive Scotty for the win._

 _2\. I flipped between Pasha and Pavel as a thing I wanted to try out - the intimate version of the name implying relation to Scotty's thoughts, and the more formal version of the name implying a third person perspective. It's pretty switchy though, so I'm not sure if it works well in connotating or if it's just distracting. If you have opinions, let me know!_

 _[[And a little extra: title is from Charlene Kaye.]]_


End file.
